


Firebrand

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Nothing but the Truth [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: Riovan watches the ruins of her world and something snaps inside her. Maybe that is why she accepts Thaos’ invitation to stay in the temple for some time. Or maybe she remains there because she has nowhere else to go.She is the only person Thaos does not talk to when he questions people about Iovara. Not that it surprises her. Not after that bitter realization she never really knew her sister.





	Firebrand

* * *

 

The water in the pond is crystal clear, shining like moonlight in the glow of torches affixed to the walls.  When Riovan steps down the stairs and into the pool, waves and ripples appear around her feet. The light reflections dance and refract, and for a moment they gleam with memories.

* * *

 

The silver rings hits the wall when she throws it, but the high-pitch childish wails coming from the other room drown the sound out. Earlier, the house was quiet, because neither could really believe what had happened, but ever since their father’s funeral Iovara keeps crying, her small hands clutching a simple adra medallion tightly.

Riovan only wept for a while during the ceremony. Now, when reality dawned on her, when she started thinking of the consequences, she is livid.

She will never forgive father for risking that much. There is so much more he could have taught her, but instead he had encouraged her to just do what made her happy, have fun and enjoy life. But what is worst is that she cannot forgive herself that she had followed his advice and stopped asking questions.

Because now she will have to pay for every day of those carefree years.

* * *

 

Iovara is staring at her, eyes wide with astonishment, as if she has not yet grasped what is happening. Joy will come later, when the first shock wears off.

“I can go and learn in the temple?” she asks.

“You can and you will, sweetie.” Riovan smiles at her sister. “I’ve secured you a place in the temple of Woedica.”

Iovara’s face lights up with happiness, and her eyes positively sparkle. “I love you!” Small hands encircle Riovan’s waist and hug tightly.

“I love you too.” Riovan kneels and puts her arms around her sister, because otherwise she would have to look into Iovara’s eyes. This way, it is easier. Iovara does not have to know, should not know; she is a child, and that knowledge is not meant for children.

Temple education requires money, and Woedica demands more than others; Riovan knows that well. She did not have to look as far Ossionus, because there are smaller temples in their town, and her sister could become an acolyte of Hylea, Berath or Gaun. But if Iovara is to achieve anything in her adult life – something more than just blessing fields and crops, tending to the sick and assisting at births and funerals – she has to learn at a temple of Woedica, where she will be taught about law, rhetoric and all other thing necessary to make an impression on that priest. Riovan has no doubt that he saw the fire and strength of Iovara’s faith... But what might be enough for a novice will not suffice for a full-fledged missionary.

“You sold your ring?” Iovara asks suddenly, face still hidden against her sister’s shoulder.

At first Riovan has no idea what she is talking about, but it soon becomes clear that Iovara must have overheard her talk with mother. And, being a child, she could have understood it only one way.

“Yes, sweetie,” she answers, with forced cheerfulness.

She had been trying to find other ways, but just kept failing. And when she realized the only choice she had was at what price to sell herself, she decided to try and charge a lot. And there was a man ready to pay.

* * *

 

Riovan does not dislike her fiancé. He is kind, he respects her; it is really not his fault that he has fallen for a woman who does not reciprocate his feelings. And she does not regret her decision – only that she had to make it. But, overall, she considers that was all worth it. She managed to sell her father’s trading business at a fair price – because no one would dare to deceive the future wife of a paladin of Woedica. And thanks to that, Iovara will never have to make such a choice, while Riovan and their mother will be able to keep the family house.

Yes, Riovan has no regrets. But despite that, there are some evenings when she recalls the dark-eyed priest. They exchanged only a few words, and yet she can still imagine his face in detail. He was not handsome, certainly not more than her fiancé, but... Riovan would never admit that, but no one has ever made such an impression on her.

And... Strange, to think of it, but she is thankful that he refused her, because that allowed her to keep at least the remains of her dignity intact. Or maybe she remembers him so well because after he saw through her game, she could drop the act and just be honest?

Whatever the reason, sometimes, on sleepless nights, she imagines his eyes, his face, his voice. She recalls the heat radiating from his hands, even though she barely brushed them, and imagines those hands on her body.

After all, it matters very little when they will never meet again.

* * *

 

Iovara’s letters come more and more seldom. Riovan understands – her sister has a lot to learn, and thus little time for writing.

Her life is not bad – her husband is away very often, so she can pretend she is not married and still lives only with her mother. Fortunately, there are no children – mother sometimes wishes she had a granddaughter or a grandson, but Riovan’s husband in a human man, and they knew what that meant from the very beginning.

In the depths of her soul, Riovan is grateful to the gods for that. It is enough that she had to take care of her sister.

* * *

 

Iovara returns to Creitum as an acolyte – only temporarily, to help at the newly built temple of Woedica. They see each other rarely, and Riovan is glad, because this way she has enough strength to make her smiles look genuine.

And then that priest returns, exactly as he promised. Riovan was certain she will be happy to see him again, because of Iovara’s future and her own memories... She feels nothing. But at least she remembers his name, learns it by heart, even though she never speaks it: Thaos ix Arkannon.

When Iovara says goodbyes to her sister and mother, her mind and soul are already set on the awaiting journey. And when she departs, walking at Thaos’ side, elated with the prospect of becoming a missionary, she never looks back.

* * *

 

Mother dies, happy that both her daughters have a safe, certain future, happy that Iovara was able to make her dream come true. Riovan offers a soothing smile and assures that she has found happiness in life, too.

Iovara does not make it to the funeral.

* * *

 

Her husband is killed on one of his missions. He probably dies happy, too, because he was able to serve the gods until the end of his days, just as he had always wanted to, and he had an ideal wife he had always dreamed of.

Riovan reaches for a piece of parchment, to write to her sister. Looks at the empty page, then tears it into shreds and lets them fall to the floor. What sense there is in writing when she is not expecting a reply anyway?

* * *

 

Riovan sells the house and sets off onto a journey. At every temple she passes, she asks about Thaos, knowing it is the fastest way to find her sister. And she has to find her. Iovara is all she has left.

* * *

 

At first she does not believe the rumours. She does not want to; she cannot. But when she reaches the main temple of Woedica, Thaos tells her the same thing. Iovara renounced the gods and left, and is now leading a whole group of heretics which is growing day by day.

Everything Riovan had done went to waste. And when Iovara threw away her old life, she threw her sister away with it. The last thread connecting Riovan to the past is broken, and the present has nothing to offer.

Riovan watches the ruins of her world and something snaps inside her. Maybe that is why she accepts Thaos’ invitation to stay in the temple for some time. Or maybe she remains there because she has nowhere else to go.

She is the only person Thaos does not talk to when he questions people about Iovara. Not that it surprises her. Not after that bitter realization she never really knew her sister.

* * *

 

It is there, among the missionaries who are still a close-knit group despite the adversities and tense atmosphere, among the missionaries where no one is lonely, that Riovan becomes fully aware she is alone, on her own. And that there is nothing she can do with her life, because one chapter is not closed yet, even though every day adds more blank pages.

That is when Thaos suggests she could help the scribes rewriting books. Riovan agrees, and starts filling the emptiness with someone else’s words.

* * *

 

When she is told they have captured Iovara, Riovan’s first instinct is to run. To see her sister. To...

Then she remembers her sister is now a stranger to her. A stranger an a heretic. Besides, why after so many years should she start noticing Riovan now, all of a sudden?

* * *

 

She knows Thaos’ eyes are dark green, like adra, but when she looks into them longer, they seem an abyss filled by darkness. Staring back, because he is watching her closely.

“Why did you come here?” he asks quietly. When he speaks like that, his voice is both more moving and unnerving than usual. “To beg me for mercy?”

Riovan feels a shiver creeping up her spine.

“Yes,” she replies in a whisper. “Let me watch.”

* * *

 

Riovan lacks the courage to take the mask off. But she is watching, unable to turn away. She can see the drops of blood, trickling as slowly as each of her lonely days. She can see the fire and smoke, smell the stench of burnt flesh, just as suffocating as all unwanted choices she had to make. And when she hears the crack of breaking bones, she smiles, certain that broken dreams make the very same sound.

When Iovara passes out, probably from pain, the cell becomes so quiet it is possible to hear every breath, every hiss of the fire burning on torches. Thaos’ eyes are looking at her over the flames and silence, speaking to her without words: this is the mercy you asked for.

Riovan rushes out into the corridor and throws the mask off, her whole body shaking. She presses both hands to her mouth and bites her fingers hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep herself from screaming.

* * *

 

She bows her head respectfully, waiting for Thaos to speak. She is not certain why she came to him again.

His gaze and silence are becoming too heavy to bear, but still she is patient.

“Why did you come?” Thaos asks at last. “Why now?” Why so late, that is what he means. “What is it you want to ask of me this time?” he inquires, even though he probably knows the answers better than she does.

“End it.” Riovan lifts her head to glance up at him. “Please, end it.”

Thaos looks into her eyes, silent again. He does not have to speak, not when she can feel his stare reaching to the very bottom of her soul.

“I have nothing to offer you in return,” Riovan says, fully aware how true it is.

She has no magical talent he could make use of, no wealth to lay at Woedica’s altar, she knows no secrets Thaos could find intriguing. She has but her soul, not interesting enough, her mind, not bright enough, and her body, but Thaos already has a lover. All she can do is swear her allegiance to him and the gods, and pledge to serve them faithfully, but why should he bother when there is so little she can do for him?

“I never turn loyalty away,” Thaos says quietly. He gets up and walks over to her, very close. His eyes are darkness and the promise of oblivion. “I will do as you ask. But that won’t make things easier for you.”

Riovan just shakes her head, at a loss for words. She just wants...

Thaos takes her by the chin, titling her head up to look into her eyes.

“I will do as you ask,” he repeats. “It’s high time to end that.” His hand withdraws. “Do you want to be there? To see that it is truly over?”

“No.” It is the only reply she manages to choke out. “I’ve seen enough.” She turns and starts walking towards the door, then remembers that if Thaos agreed to listen to her plea, she should...

“Do not thank me,” he says coldly. “There are things one should never thank for.”

Riovan leaves his chambers, but stops just beyond the threshold and leans against the stone wall heavily. Slowly, she blinks, then shuts her eyes tightly. There are drying tears on her cheeks, the last ones she will ever cry.

* * *

 

That night, for the first time in years, she imagines his face and his hands. She is certain that if she could forget everything just for a heartbeat, she would be able to fall asleep. But all she can see above her is shadows, not Thaos’ eyes, and so she cannot forget.

Next day, when she meets him after the morning prayers and catches his gaze, she has a feeling that he knows. But because he already has a lover, he passes Riovan by, indifferent, letting her save the last shreds of dignity.

As if I still had any left, Riovan thinks bitterly.

* * *

 

Riovan is staring down into the depths of the Court of the Penitent. She has no idea how long she has been standing over the edge; she lost track of time, wondering what would happen if she jumped – would she fall, or would she fly for a moment?

She is not entirely aware of what is happening with her, but she can sense cracks appearing in the very matter of her soul. And it is not difficult to figure out souls are not supposed to look like that.

A warm hand touches her shoulder. She turns and looks into Thaos’ face. There is open book is his other hand, but the pages are blank.

“I haven’t finished,” Riovan explains. “I couldn’t... I didn’t have...” She did not have enough strength or will to get out of bed for longer, to go further than a few steps away from it, but he must know that already. He always knows.

“Someone else will finish this,” Thaos replies. “I have another task for you. I’d like you to start writing down our history.”

His eyes gleam like adra, and for a heartbeat Riovan wonders how could she ever have considered them darkness.

“I will do as you wish.”

Thaos smiles – gently, kindly. “I believe in you,” he says, telling Riovan what she has never heard from anyone, even though those are the very words she has always needed most.

* * *

 

Riovan leans over the book and another empty page she is going to fill, carefully picking and weighting every word she uses to write history as it will be remembered. Slowly, day by day and letter by letter, she uses those words to put herself together in the way she wants to remember herself. To rebuild herself in the only way she is still able to.

* * *

 

When after so many years she finally sees Thaos’ eyes above her and feels his hands on her body, she is not happy. She can feel happiness no longer, but, having no other choice, she accepted it a long time ago.

At least she can forget, if only for a while. Because even though his eyes are cold, they are also deep, and the darkness at their bottom seems soft; his hands are fire that burns everything away, until Riovan becomes ash. And ash is light enough to drift up in the air...

Riovan drifts up and drowns in the darkness of his eyes.

* * *

 

She does not love him. Maybe she can no longer love at all. Maybe she never could. If so, they have a lot in common.

But Riovan can offer him something better than love: understanding. With her, Thaos does not have to hide behind a curtain weaved of shreds of truth – she has seen blood on his hands, after all.

She does not love him... but she desires him. He is a memory from the old days, when she used to be someone else, someone better; he is a dream she has thought lost for so long, and then managed to finally catch it. Thaos is everything she has ever wanted, but has never really understood before. Love? Ah, no. He is the safety granted by having secured a high position in the hierarchy, confidence that comes with having power, relief found in a moment of oblivion. And pleasure, yes, that too; why should she not enjoy it, when reality makes even her most daring dreams pale in comparison?

Thaos is all that, and something more. Fear. That is why Riovan cannot stop thinking about him, why she always awaits him so eagerly. Because even though he frequently invites her to his bed, sees to her comfort and makes sure she always feels needed in the order, sometimes there is something in his gaze or gestures that makes her afraid. And fear is one of the few emotions Riovan is still able to feel, and the moments when she is frightened are the only time she still feels alive.

On some days, she thinks she could love him for it.

* * *

 

The gleam of a simple ring with an adra stone, lying on Thaos’ hand. The fire burning in the depths of his dark eyes, fire she has never really comprehended; flames she wanted to burn down in, but cold ash cannot catch fire. The flash of a steel thread, weaved around and between her fingers; Thaos’ whisper echoing in her ear every time she reminded someone of their sins, and then the gleam of silver and the light dying in their eyes. The flame of candles she used to record history by; history as Thaos was writing it.

Riovan can see so much light all around her, and yet it seems she is threading darkness. And even though she has burnt out long ago, it feels as if she was burning again.

* * *

 

When she burns down entirely, so completely that even her hair is grey like ash, Thaos allows her to leave. Riovan knows that if she ever betrayed his secrets, Thaos would sentence her to death – even though he has never trusted her enough to share any of the more important mysteries. Maybe he would even sent one of her sisters with a steel, silvery thread in her hands, and the last thing Riovan would hear would be the litany of her sins. She knows all too well how it goes; she has done it many times.

She has no doubt that Thaos would not come after her himself. Because, at last, she is aware she means nothing to him, and that it has always been so.

Riovan is not planning a betrayal. She only has one more wish.

* * *

 

She slowly descends down the stone stairs, the water around her glittering with thousands of sparks like shattered crystal. She could simply leave, but her soul would remember, and the past could come back to haunt her one day. All she wants – the only thing she wants – is to forget, once and for all. Once for all future lives.

* * *

 

Iovara’s face lights up with happiness. Her smile is radiant.

“I love you!” Small hands encircle Riovan’s waist and hug tightly.

“I love you too, sweetie.”

* * *

 

Riovan stops in the middle of the pool, closing her eyes. Slowly, she kneels, so that the small waves close over her head and the water covers her whole. And then she opens her mouth and takes a deep breath.

 


End file.
